


Your name on a grain

by hindz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Auror Harry Potter, Casual Sex, Depression, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, First Times, M/M, Muggle living, Smoking, Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, authority difference, house arrest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hindz/pseuds/hindz
Summary: Draco’s stuck living as a muggle for a year and has a lot to learn, Harry Potter shows up at his flat once a week.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Your name on a grain

  
The wizegamont stares at him with greedy eyes. 

Azkaban is where they want him. Most of them anyway. There are women with kind eyes, they leak sympathy as they watch him. Then there are men, angry ones who would spit on him given the chance. He's put under veritaserum and tells them all through gritted teeth the things he was forced to do in order to survive. The memories resurface crudely pulled from his mind as the veritaserum coursed through his system. 

He's not exempt of course, he still did these things and he knows he won’t get forgiveness. There’s no resent as he sits there surrounded by people who hate him. There are just angry expressions and cold stares and nods and quills moving faster than his eyes can follow. 

There are witnesses on the stand, students he wasn't able to crutiatus, that he can't look in the eye regardless. 

His mother is there. Blonde hair tied neatly in a tight elegant braid, dark robes. Like this is a funeral . She speaks of what was expected of him. She's trying to play the sympathy card and he's not sure it's working. The words blackmail and he was just a boy are uttered and Draco can barely breathe. 

Witnesses come and go, the wizgamont oddly giving him what seems to be a fair trial considering not every witness has slandered him. Eventually the final witness of the day is arrives and Draco can’t look away once he sees him. 

There is a statement from Harry fucking Potter of all people. He shows up halfway through Katie Bell’s statement. The large door to the wizegamont opens with a swift noise and everyone turns to look at him. His glasses are skewed up, his robes a mess and draco swears he’s in jeans. Draco is under the impression that he was forced to come last minute by how rushed his appearance looks. 

Katie is shaky as she quickly recites the rest of the story. Necklace, bathroom, Draco. Before he knows it the wizegamont is asking Potter if he’s here as a witness. Of course he says yes and welcomes the ministry official that guides him to the witness stand. 

The shock of him being present resonates through the room and Draco just stares as he watches Potter shuffle around and readjust his glasses, his clothes, play with his hair. Signs of anxiety maybe? Hes not sure but he looks so foolish he would have laughed if he wasn’t facing Azkaban charges. 

Potter starts off slow, answering questions about their hogwarts relationship. Draco sits there, eyes dead as he stares at the small cut on his index finger. 

"Draco Malfoy saved my life. He-" Draco almost pukes listening to the praise the man-*boy*-gives him, the way he views things is warped. When he mentions fienfyre Draco's fingers curl into cushion of the chair he's sitting on. He doesn't look at the man at all, his gaze honing in on his dark mark as he listens to Potter stumble through words probably appointed to him by someone much more well spoken.

They make eye contact right when Potter gets off the witness stand and Draco glares at him. Unable to help himself but Potter doesn't do a single thing of malice back to him. He nods sadly. Like this is a sad situation. Draco would like to assure him that it's not sad but is instead well deserved. 

When the aurors first arrived at the manor a week after the war to collect him and his family, he hadn't understood really what he had done wrong. But nights confined in a cell had brought a lot to his attention. He deserved punishment, amples of it. It’s embarassing really. He considers just going to Azkaban, rebuilding his name is going to be extremely difficult and so will be living a life. 

There’s chatter from the Wizegamont before they begin displaying all evidence related to the trial, it all feels awfully invasive. They have him show his dark mark, pushing his sleeve up. It's humiliating, there's gasps and *oh merlin he's just a child* is whispered somewhere in the room. 

Then they read pages out of his journal, the one he'd carelessly left in his hogwarts trunk at home. Long cursive text he wrote late at night in the confines of hogwarts when he couldn't sleep; it’s shared with everyone. He stares at the ground when they start, the reader, a short tired looking women sighs as she starts her redaction. 

**"I think they're going to mark me soon. I can feel it in the air, every bloody corner of the manor i hear them whispering. The way my father has been looking at me makes me feel ill. And When it happens i will fall gracefully. I will take it like a Malfoy. For my family. I will be proud for them."**

  
"**It hurt."**

  
**They've given me a task and i'm not sure i want to do it. it's too personal to bring this to hogwarts. i know them. all of them. and dumbledore, fuck him but merlin i don't think i have it in me to murder him like they expect me to."**

  
**Harry Potter, is always getting in the way. He can't let me breathe."**

There's chattering after each exert and Draco can't help but pick at the arms of the chair. 

*

He's in a ministry holding cell for 2 more days before he's dragged back infront of them all. During this time his mother's trial happens. He's never asked to witness but he assumes it goes well when he doesn't see her at his second trial. 

His second trial is much quicker than the first.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy do you plead guilty to the following charges; Attempted murder on 3 accounts, Conspiracy to commit murder, Use of an unforgivable curse, Accessory to murder and torture, as well as fighting as an enemy combatant." Kingsley Shacklebolt says, voice calm and collected. 

"Yes." The word seems so heavy to say out loud. 

"Very well." He coughs to cover his surprise. "Here is your sentence, appointed by the entire wizegamont through many rounds of voting on what would suited after properly assessing and considering all evidence appointed to this trial." Kingsley's voice echoes through the room. The rest of the wizengamot nods with him and Draco can’t breathe as the Minister of Magic starts speaking. 

"1 Year under probation, you cannot leave the city of London and will have weekly check ins with a ministry appointed liaison officer . Your wand will be taken away as well, no casting for a year. No magic." He squints at him before continuing. "You are also forbidden from visiting any wizarding districts. and you will undergo rehabilitation with our new muggle life program where you will experience the next year living exclusively as a muggle. You must also have a job and will be appointed a flat in London which by the second month you will be paying the bill for."

There are very few protests, yet there are a few very hard glares sent his way as he's led out of the room.

He's front page news for a week. 

  
* 

The muggle life program is a week long with a very basic introduction to living life as a muggle. He sleeps in a room at the ministry for this time, a glorified prison cell he can only leave for class or to eat. 

They explain everything in a very detailed manor. 7 hours a day he is sat at a desk with a few other death eaters sparsely spread out across the same ministry room, he knows none of them. The room itself is reminiscent of the library at Hogwarts. It’s aged, there’s dark wood moulding around the room and books toppling on and off the shelves. 

His teacher is an older woman, she had introduced herself as Mathilde, she has a vague french accent and dresses similarity to his mother. She has a warm kind of presence and a soft pleasant voice. 

First class they talk about blood purity. Magically binded to a desk and voices taken away. Mathilde lectures them for an hour regarding the ignorance of their beliefs; Pureblood wizards are not biologically better than muggleborns or half-bloods, nor does blood purity influence power or health. Draco wavers when she mentions purity doesn’t influence power, clearly that hasn’t held true from his experiences. 

She gets into the science behind it, Draco can see the other prisoners struggling not to argue. If not for her being unable to hear them. Draco can feel the revolt the others want, the disgust. The hatred is clear and he can't bring himself to fully feel the same way. If anything hes humiliated, to think in such away. 

There's a tinge in his stomach as he listens, finding it hard not to disregard what she is saying with the beliefs he grew up with. 

It's a long class and when the first hour ends the others look prepared to hurt her. She's a sympathizer after all. Draco doesn't know how these people were eligible for this program, they seem to hold no regret, no remorse. They would kill a muggle given the chance and now they may be released into their world with a how to guide on how to be a convincing muggle. 

When he thinks it's over. A pensieve appears on each desk. Ministry officiated. They look older than the ones at Hogwarts. There’s already a whispy mercury coloured memory swirling around the bottom of basin. He lets his pointer finger drag down the side of it. 

Mathilde claps her hands together. “Now.” His eyes snap up. 

"Each pensieve holds a collection of memories, each from a different muggle from their lives before the war. Each muggle was hospitalized due to pointless death eater attacks on their home. Afterwards you will each write a quick paragraph on why this was undeserved. if you fail to compile an adequate educated response you will be removed from the program as you have shown you hold no empathy for other humans, magical or not."

The sinking feeling in his chest deepens. 

He moves himself forward and stares into the pensieve, hair falling into his eyes as he does so before he’s immersed into what feels like another world. 

Lights flash dewily, shadowy faces surround him before he is suddenly placed in a sunny field with a child and her parents. 

“Cynthia come on love, we must get going.” Her mom says, holding out her hand for the small child. 

He views a montage of a happy childhood, smiles, big meals, large family, they have a warm aura. They live Somewhere downtown in a suburban area. Her childhood passes by quickly, flashing before his eyes until she’s in secondary school. She picks up smoking in her teenage years, graduates school, applies to Oxford, gets in. Her experience is so contrasting to his. Her muggle school is nothing like Hogwarts. It’s so modernized unlike anything he’s ever seen. The university she attends has its similarities though. 

He follows her around, walking beside her, running to catch up when he gets lost in thought. Eventually he reaches her mid twenties, meets a man, graduates university, gets married, she’s home alone with her husband when they hear screaming from their neighbours house. It all happens so quickly, they look out their window and see green lights flashing inside the house. Clear tell tale signs of the killing curse, but why would a muggle know that. 

Her husband runs across the street and she follows behind, concerned, frowning as he knocks on the door.... 

The next minute is difficult to watch. When he’s pulled out of the memory Mathilde is standing near his desk and addressing everyone with a hand gesture. The pensieves disappear. 

“I can see that was rather taxing on you all so as soon as you’re done your writing assignment you’re free to go. Leave it on your desk.” 

* 

They start with electronics next class. Two people are missing. Draco guesses their test answers regarding their pensieve experiences weren’t satisfactory. 

They go on to speak of Electricity, Cable TV, cell phones, internet. it.'s confusing for his first real day. He frowns at her but makes mental notes. If he's living at a muggle he won't live ignorant. He refuses to be helpless like he was during the war. 

"Their pictures don't move. If you come across the newspaper or a book of some kind. It will all be static. They do have films and television shows. Imagine your favourite book visualized, watchable. That's essentially what it is."

She rolls in a large square box later on during his second day, it's heavy or atleast it looks it as she puts a lightening charm on it to push it into the room. 

"This is a television." She says easily. "You may have witnessed one of these if your pensieves yesterday. I'm going to play a short film for you, all relevant to the program of course but all the same it is a demonstration of one of the most common electronics that muggles own, aside from cellphones." 

Draco doesn't say a word, or understand exactly how a television works but it's intriguing as this film, as Mathilde had called it, plays. It reminds him of wizarding media, it has got pictures of course but it's a continuous story and not a loop. 

The film speaks of cellular devices, he hears the other men stuck in this program with him scoff but again, it's interesting and seems more efficient than wizarding communication methods. It's a short video and when it's finished, Mathilde hands out a questionnaire and tells them to all to fill it out with what are called pens, Draco is reminded of a tiny quill. 

*

They move on to currency the next day. "The conversion rate." Explains Mathilde. "Is wonderful although you will not be able to access your gringotts vaults until the end of year." She says and configures a Galleon into a different type of money. "1 Galleon is equivalent to 4 pounds. 

"Regardless you won't be using any wizarding currency but it's easier to understand money when you have a base." 

"As well as bank cards. You'll need a bank account, which we will be helping you with. It will connect to your wizarding vault at gringotts once your sentence is over." 

"You use bank cards to pay bills, for your flats, electricity, phone usage bill, shopping and the likes." 

Draco listens as much as he can manage. Some days he's more tired than other but the classes are mostly very interesting and keep him on his toes. He won't survive living in the muggle world if he is petty and doesn't listen. If he fucks up the deal they've given him he could end up in Azkaban. He has too much pride to let himself end up there. 

* 

The classes drone on and on, he becomes increasingly nervous as they continue. Reality setting in that he is going to be living this way for a year with no other options. 

*

  
"Sex. They use condoms. No charms. If you want to be safe you'll buy some." 

A man snorts.

"Yes?"

"As if I would ever touch a muggle. Filthy." The man shakes his head.

"Are you insinuating you would rather be in azkaban?” 

The class goes silent and Mathilde continues. Draco listens attentively. 

*

@We will take care of finding you residency as well as jobs. Most of the job opportunities we have are businesses owned by Muggleborns who are more than happy to walk you through everything step by step. Although there are some options that are fully muggle, so be extra careful to not be too odd."

*

"Draco." Mathilde says near the end of his last class. Eyes shift to him. Mathilda looks at him softly though. "Would you mind staying after class dear?" 

"Of course not." 

"Wonderful.” She says and continues, bringing them back into social settings and behaviour and clothing. Which is more different than he expected but very adaptable and easy. The differences between muggles and wizards slowly melt away. 

They finish the class by learning about paperwork, job scouting, interviews, identification. It's not as difficult as it had sounded initially. Everyone is quick to leave once Mathilde’s timer goes off. Draco is sluggish as he gathers his things. 

"How are you feeling?

"Fine." He shrugs, pulling his book and notes to his chest. The notes are more so letters to her parents but she doesn’t need to know that. 

"I can see that you're trying." 

“Well my choices are limited aren’t they?” He quickly realizes this isn’t the nicest way to speak to her but he can’t help the automaticity of it all. 

"I suppose so, but I'm still glad ." She says warmly, unbothered. "I think you'll do well as a muggle Draco. The transition won't be seamless but out of everyone in this class I truly believe you'll have the easiest transition." 

"Sure."

"Keep your head up dear." 

"Ill be putting in a good word with my supervisor for you. Hopefully they'll treat you right regarding your flat." She says. "Kindness doesn't always transfer well to my students in this class unfortunately."

"I understand." 

"I really do wish you well." She smiles in a way that he wishes reminded him of his mother. “A liaison officer will speak with you tomorrow and go over everything with you.”

*

Living as a muggle is harder on him than he expects it to be. 

Draco doesn't sleep. He tosses side to side, rolls his neck, his shoulders, stretches his legs, his arms, his body, one limb at a time until he is sated. He is pressing his hands over his ears, his eyes, his mouth, numbing his senses.

He’s in bed, crying, a cigarette between his lips, ash on his fingers, burning, hot, scathing. The ash always falls onto his sheets like a second blanket. There's smoke in his nose, his room stinks of it but it's calming. Soothing, like a lullaby that he can breathe in.

He moves and ends up sitting in front of the window in his room, looking down on the streets of the city. He stares out of it often, watches as water rolls down the glass panes, he traces the shapes with his fingertips and when he can barely keep his eyes open he lets a gentle cleaning charm wash over the glass. A wandless one. It only works sometimes. 

And when Draco doesn't sleep, doesn't sit in front of his window, doesn't toss and turn, he lays on the floor in his muggle kitchen. The floor cold against his bare back, the kettle on and whistling. He’ll press the butt of his cigarette against his arm, dots it along the faint mark there on his arm. Or sometimes he will find a muggle to spend the night with. A warm body to wrap around his own, make him forget for a bit. 

  
*

His flat is in a muggle building. It’s connected to nothing like he had been promised it would, it’s completely conspicuous, fully muggle. It has a dingy elevator, dark hallways, solid wood flooring. His apartment is the size of his old bedroom and on-suite at the manor. It’s not terrible. 

Harry Potter knocks on his door once a week, every Sunday at 4PM. Draco is the walking dead by then, shuffling his feet, yawning. He chugs a pepper up potion at 3:30PM just to be sure he can function by the time Potter invades his home.

In preparation for these visits, All of his potions supplies are shoved underneath his bed. The difficulties include just the cauldron, the ingredients are much easier to store.

Draco cleans, Draco punches the cushions on his couch, Draco smokes, chain smokes. His ash tray, a stone dragon curled around itself is full, smoke comes out of its mouth.

Harry Potter is knocking on his door at 4PM, once, two times, like he always does. Draco takes his time like he always does.

"Malfoy," Potter says once the door is open. He is standing there, hands shoved in pockets. He is always the same, polite, guarded. Like he doesn't know him. Full muggle-wizard relations uniform clinging to him.

"Harry Potter." Draco nods, presses himself to the door and lets Potter walk in. Potter does, strong steps, he doesn't remove his shoes. Never does. 

He stands there, in the middle of the room like he's not seen it before.

"Welcome to my home for the 27th time." Draco closes the door, doesn't lock it. "May I interest you in a glass of water? Fresh from the tap?"

Potter says. "No thank you." Like always. 

Draco's head hurts. They go to his bedroom first, Draco leads the way like always. He sits on his bed as Potter performs intricate spells on every item he owns. He pulls open dresser drawers, waves his wand, a little green light appears and then the drawer is closed and Draco exhales.

The closet door is opened, a wand is swished, each item shakes. A green light appears.

His night stands are next, his bookshelf comes right after, his bed is last. It shakes. Draco has moved to the doorway, leans against it, grips the moulding. Potter stares, touches the bed frame. A green light glows. Potter nods. Draco exhales.

"Done in here then?" Draco sniffs, scratching just shoulder, his nail gets caught on the fabric. He frowns. 

"Did you check all my drawers? Anything interesting enough for you?" Draco knows Potter won't say anything of worth. His vocabulary when it comes to him doesn't extend far anymore. 

Potter is typically quiet when he's here, respectable. Doesn't respond to taunts of any kind,he only responds to kindness. Draco gave up by visit number 12, it had become boring to try to get a reaction. It made him look like he was trying too hard, and maybe he had been.

First time he showed up, first time they met after the war aside from Draco's trial where all they had shared was a single glance. Was at his own flat. Draco told him to fuck off the second he saw him, a cigarette hung from his mouth, his arm a barrier for the entry way. Potter had simply stood there and Draco had blinked and repeated, lips parted, eyes enraged. "Fuck. off."

Potter just shook his head and handed him his search warrant, it looked the same as the contract Draco had been sent weeks prior letting him know to cooperate. 15 minutes later, his entire flat had been searched. Not too thoroughly but enough that Draco had to rearrange a few things. 

He showed up the next week at the same time, his warrant in hand, again, like a reminder. Draco scoffed but let him in all the same. This time, Potter left with a handful of heirlooms, anything from the manor, books, they hadn't even been dark. His mother had been allowed to drop off a few things unfortunately he clearly wasn’t allowed to keep anything remotely magical. 

And then Harry Potter started asking him questions. Draco loathed the visits more because of them. He wanted to know about work, about his friends, about how he was adjusting. He would stare at him all owlishly and say things like “Do you like it here?” Or “Hows your day going?” 

Draco always just stared back and ignored him. There’s no attempts at conversation anymore. And now, Draco leads him around his flat. Can't have Potter wandering around like he used to allow.

Draco shows him to the bathroom next. The same treatment, everything is examined thoroughly. The same as always. They go to the living room, the furniture, the books, the rug. And then the kitchen, Draco sits on the counter and drinks his tea as Potter stares and frowns and little green lights float above their heads indicating that yes, he's clean.

He sips his tea, wipes his mouth with a tea towel, smacks his lips together. He can taste the smoke in his mouth. "Anything?" Draco asks, smiles weakly.

Potter doesn't turn to look at him, his shoulders relax, fall. "Of course not." The stove is next, the spell goes up in the air weakly. A green light sparkles.

"Of course not." Draco says. He sets the tea towel down, it falls to the floor. And then he sets his mug down beside his thigh. "Did you want to check the balcony? I hear that's where all the criminals keep their plans nowadays."

"No, I think that's all for today." Potter shakes his head, his hair moves with the motion.

Draco says. "Well, a pleasure, as always. See yourself out."

"Right." Potter says, looks at him. Hair wild on top of his head, uniform stiff. "Have a nice day."

"Sure."

Potter leaves, he hears the door lock. _Alohomora_ , he suspects. Draco slides to his kitchen floor, beside the fallen tea towel. He closes his eyes, leans back against the cabinet. 

The handle digs into the back of his neck. He presses his fingers into the burns on his arm and sighs.

All the things hidden underneath his bed are moved back on top of his desk within the hour.

**Author's Note:**

> hi updates once a week hopefully! lmk your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
